TOM WAITS: Swordfishtrombones (1983)

1. Underground
2. Shore Leave
3. Dave The Butcher
4. Johnsburg, Illinois
5. 16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought Six
6. Town With No Cheer
7. In The Neighbourhood
8. Just Another Sucker On The Vine
9. Frank's Wild Years
10. Swordfishtrombone
11. Down, Down, Down
12. Soldier's Things
13. Gin Soaked Boy
14. Trouble Braids
15. Rainbirds


UNDERGROUND
Rattle big black bones in the Danger zone
There's a rumblin' groan down below
There's a big dark town, it's a place I've found
There's a world going on underground

They're alive, they're awake
While the rest of the world is asleep
Below the mine shaft roads, it will all unfold
There's a world going on underground

All the roots hang down, swing from town to town
They are marching around down under your boots
All the trucks unload beyond the gopher holes
There's a world going on underground

SHORE LEAVE
Well with buck shot eyes and a purple heart
I rolled down the national stroll
And with a big fat paycheck strapped to my hip-sack
And a shore leave wristwatch underneath my sleeve
In a Hong Kong drizzle on Cuban heels
I rowed down the gutter to the Blood Bank
And I'd left all my papers on the Ticonderoga
And I was in bad need of a shave
And so I slopped at the corner on cold chow mein
And shot billiards with a midget until the rain stopped
And I bought a long sleeved shirt with horses on the front
And some gum and a lighter and a knife
And a new deck of cards with girls on the back
And I sat down and wrote a letter to my wife

And I said Baby, I'm so far away from home
And I miss my baby so
I can't make it by myself
I love you so

Well I was pacing myself trying to make it all last
Squeezing all the life out of a lousy two day pass
And I had a cold one at the Dragon with some Filipino floor show
And talked baseball with a lieutenant over a Singapore sling
And I wondered how the same moon outside over this Chinatown fair
Could look down on Illinois and find you there
I know I love you Baby

And I'm so far away from home
I’m so far away from home
And I miss my baby so
I can't make it by myself
I love you so

Shore leave, Shore leave
Shore leave, Shore leave
Shore leave, Shore leave
Shore leave, Shore leave
Shore leave, Shore leave
Shore leave, Shore leave

DAVE THE BUTCHER
(Instrumental)

JOHNSBURG, ILLINOIS
She's my only true love
She's all that I think of
Look here in my wallet that's her
She grew up on a farm there
There's a place on my arm
Where I've written her name next to mine
You see I just can't live without her
And I'm her only boy
And she grew up outside McHenry
In Johnsburg, Illinois

16 SHELLS FROM A THIRTY-OUGHT SIX
I plugged 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six
And the Black Crow snuck through a hole in the sky
So I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree

Ma, cook them feathers on a tire iron spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
Woah, and I kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Blew me a hole 'bout the size of a kickdrum
And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow

I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Well I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the buckets from a red Corvette
Tore out the buckets from a red Corvette
Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
Woah, you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree
With the strings of a Washburn, stretched like a clothes line
Woah, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
I bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage

Woah, I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

TOWN WITH NO CHEER
Well, it's hotter 'n blazes and all the long faces
There'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
There'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
From Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander

With newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
The train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
No there's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
Vic Rail decided the canteen was no longer necessary there
No spirits, no bilgewater and eighty dry locals
And the high noon sun beats a hundred and four
There's a hummingbird trapped in a closed down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
Kept the watering hole open for sixty five years
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stoppin' here
All ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer

No Bourbon, no Branchwater
Though the townspeople here
Fought her Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
Now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21st
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone
There'll be no stopping here
All ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer

IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Well, the eggs chase the bacon round the fryin' pan
And the whinin' dog pidgeons by the steeple bell rope
And the dogs tipped the garbage pails over last night
And there's always construction work bothering you
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood

Well, Friday's a funeral and Saturday's a bride
And Sey's got a pistol on the register side
And the goddam delivery trucks, they make too much noise
And we don't get our butter delivered no more
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood

Well, Big Mambo's kickin' his old grey hound
And the kids can't get ice cream, ‘cause the market burned down
And the newspaper sleeping bags blow down the lane
And that goddam flatbed's got me pinned in again
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood

There's a couple Filipino girls gigglin' by the church
And the window is busted and the landlord ain't home
And Butch joined the army, yeah, that's where he's been
And the jackhammer's digging up the sidewalks again
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood

In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood
In the neighborhood

JUST ANOTHER SUCKER ON THE VINE
(Instrumental)

FRANK’S WILD YEARS
Frank settled down in the Valley
And he hung his wild years on a nail that he drove through his wife's forehead
He sold used office furniture out there on San Fernando Road
And assumed a 30,000 dollar loan at fifteen and a quarter percent
Put a down payment on a little two bedroom place
His wife was a spent piece of used jet trash
Made good bloody marys
Kept her mouth shut most of the time
Had a little Chihuahua named Carlos
That had some kind of skin disease
And was totally blind
They had a thoroughly modern kitchen
Self-cleaning oven the whole bit
Frank drove a little sedan
They were so happy

One night Frank was on his way home from work, stopped at the liquor store,
Picked up a couple Mickey's Big Mouths
Drank 'em in the car and with a Shell station, he got a gallon of gas in a can
Drove home, doused everything in the house, torched it,
Parked across the street, laughing
Watching it burn, all Halloween orange and chimney red
Then Frank put on a top forty station
Got on the Hollywood Freeway
Headed North
Never could stand that dog

SWORDFISHTROMBONE
Well, he came home from the war with a party in his head
And modified Brougham deville
And a pair of legs that opened up like butterfly wings
And a mad dog that wouldn't sit still
He went and took up with a Salvation Army Band girl
Played “Dirty Water” from a swordfishtrombone
Went to sleep at the bottom of Tenkiller Lake
He said "Gee, but it's great to be home"

Well he came home from the war with a party in his head
An idea for a fireworks display
And he knew that he'd be ready with a stainless steel machete
And a half a pint of Ballantine's each day
And he holed up in room above a hardware store
Cryin' nothing there but Hollywood tears
And he put a spell on some poor little Crutchfield girl
And stayed like that for twenty-seven years

He packed up all his expectations he lit out for California
With a flyswatter banjo on his knee
With lucky tiger in his angel hair and benzedrine for getting there
They found him in a eucalyptus tree
Lieutenant got him a canary bird and skanked her head with every word
And Chesterfield moonbeams in a song
And he got twenty years for lovin' her from some Oklahoma governor
Said everything this Doughboy does is wrong

Now some say he's doing the obituary mambo
And some say he's hanging on the wall
Perhaps this yarn's the only thing that holds this man together
Some say that he was never here at all

Some say they saw him down in Birmingham, sleeping in a boxcar going by
And if you think that you can tell a bigger tale
I swear to God you'd have to tell a lie

DOWN, DOWN, DOWN
He went down down down
And the devil called him by name
He went down down down
Hangin' onto the back of a train
He went down down down
This boy went solid down
Always chewed tobacco and the bathtub gin
Always chewed tobacco and the bathtub gin
He went down down down
This boy went solid down
He went down

Well he went down down down
And the devil jumped on his head
He went down down down
Stayin' in a broken down shed
He went down down down
Sleepin' in the devil's bed
He went down down
Never listened to the words I said
And he went down, down down down down
Well, he went down

Well he went down down down
And the devil said where you been
He went down down down
He was screamin' down around the bend
Down down down
This boy went solid down
He was always cheatin' and he always told lies
He was always cheatin' and he always told lies
Down down down
This boy went solid down
He went down

SOLDIER’S THINGS
Davenports and kettle drums and swallow-tail coats
Table cloths and patent leather shoes
Bathing suits and bowling balls and clarinets and rings
This radio all really needs is a fuse
A tinker, a tailor a soldier's things
His rifle, his boots full of rocks
Oh, and this one is for bravery
Oh, and this one is for me
And everything's a dollar in this box

Cuff links and hub caps trophies and paperbacks
It's good transportation but the brakes aren't so hot
Neckties and boxing gloves this jackknife is rusted
You can pound that dent out on the hood

A tinker, a tailor a soldier's things
His rifle, his boots full of rocks
Oh, and this one is for bravery
Oh, and this one is for me
And everything's a dollar in this box

GIN SOAKED BOY
I got a belly full of you and that Leavenworth stuff
Now I'm gonna get out and I'm gonna get tough
You been lying to me how could you crawl so low
With some Gin-soaked boy that you don't know

I come home last night full a fifth of Old Crow
You said you goin' to your Ma's but where the hell did you go
You went and slipped out nights you didn't think that I'd know
With some gin-soaked boy that you don't know

Well I would bet you as far as Oklahoma by now
The dogs are barking out back and you're knittin' your brow
Well, I'm on your tail I sussed your M.O.
From some gin-soaked boy that you don't know

TROUBLE’S BRAIDS
Well I pulled on trouble's braids
And I hid in the briars out by the quick mud
Stayin' away from the main roads
Passin' out wolf tickets downwind from the blood hounds
And I pulled on trouble's braids
And I lay by a cypress as quiet as a stone
'Til the bleeding stopped
I blew the weather vane off some old road house
I built a fire in the skeleton back seat of an old Tucker
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I spanked cold red mud where the hornet stung deep
And I tossed in the ditch in a restless sleep
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I hung my rain-soaked jacket on some old barbed wire
Poured cold rusty water on a miserable fire
I pulled on trouble's braids
The creek was swollen by daybreakand I could just
Barely see
And I floated downstream on an old dead tree
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids

RAINBIRDS
(Instrumental)